The Big Roadtrip 2002!

Golden, British Columbia, to Calgary, Alberta

- 25 August 2002 -

There are a lot of pictures of scenic mountains here. I took almost 400 pictures on August 25th... these two August 25th pages (this one, and the other one) contain 89 of the best of those pictures. 

It's getting difficult to accurately and entertainingly describe this many pictures of scenic mountains, though...

A few royal Canadian metric kilometers outside of Golden, Trans-Canada 1 narrowed back down to a two-lane road. It does that sort of thing at the darndest times, really.

Note the spiffy B&W lines around the 40 km/h speed sign -- it's a rockin' way of getting folks to pay attention to the sign, I think.

Twists and turns were commonplace on this portion of the road. The mountains made that so.

Traffic fines double in work zones. Why is that mentioned here? Because a construction zone is about to commence.

Note the goat.

Ladies and gentlemen, we have here Yansa's nightmare -- road construction on a twisty, turny, winding, two-lane mountain road. Say it with me: BLAR!

Watch out for rocks. (Big freakin' granite rocks, to get technical about it.)

Verdant mountain grandeur. And if it doesn't stop soon, I'm going to have to pull out a thesaurus, or use Babelfish. ;)

Wow (reprise).

Ummm... I'm not on the Internet while writing this, so I can't use Babelfish to translate "mountains and trees" into Portuguese or anything...

Note the caribou sign, warning of large-antlered wildlife. It's got spooky red eyes... that's because it's about to sneak up behind Moby and snack on his head.


Wow (second reprise; then chorus of "Hoo boy, diddly-diddly, wow wow wow").

Some day, the space aliens and I shall conquer your foolish planet! Until then, have some scenery, mortal humans!! Bwaha!!! MWAHAHAHA!!!!

Over there on the right is the sign (in English and French) indicating that a passing lane will appear in 1 Canadian metric kilometer.

The caribou speaks to me. 

It looks at me with its spooky red eye, and tells me (in a voice sweet with indolence) to watch out for its kin when I thunder along at umpty-hundred Canadian metric kilometers per hour.

It also says that Moby's cranium was zesty

We're getting close to the Alberta border, but we're still quite a few kilometers away.

You'd think this was the Alberta border, with that official-looking metric Canadian information center off to the right, but no...

This isn't the Alberta border, either. 

Are we *there* yet?!?!?!

No, kids; this is still British Columbia. Wild Rose Country is still off in the distance...

Spiral tunnels. Tunnels en spirale. Only (soulement) 1 kilometer ahead!

But they're still in British Columbia (le Colmbia du Grand Bretagne).

Welcome to Alberta -- Wild Rose Country!

(For the record, I did not run across any wild roses while I was there... but it's the thought that counts.)

Words fail me, in the "absentminded and not quite sure how to caption further pictures of impressive Canadian Rocky Mountain scenery" sense.

Go no faster than 70 km/h when going around this corner, pal, or the Mounties will be all over your sorry heinie! (Converted from metric, 70 km/h is something like 35 MPH, and the Mounties are something like "the FBI and State Police combined".)

What else can I say? It's all green and gray.

Promenade through the valley Bow! Make a sortie in that direction -- it's only 2 kilometers away.

If that isn't called Castle Rock, it should be, darnit! 

Or maybe... Mt. St. Yansa! Then it could be Mont St-Ynsa in French! And they could carve my portrait into the side of it, and many members of my family and LiveJournal friends list might briefly consider flocking many thousands of metric kilometers to Alberta to see the mountain that features a hewn portrait of yours truly! Or something! And then some!

If that isn't called Big Freaking Granite Mountain, it should be, darnit! And... yeah!

If that isn't called Mountain In The Distance With A Bunch Of Tall But Twiggy Metric Trees To The Right, it should be, darnit!

*cough* Um.

Momma told me I'd have days like this. Days where I can't think of anything to say. Verily, verily, I say unto thee, the feline of the house haveth my tonguenance.  Sad thing, really.

Considering that I have utilized all of the Red Cross approved possible descriptions for pictures like this, I will have to get in touch with my caveman side for future attempts. This could get messy. 

*grunt* RAAR! *stomp stomp*

This was a picture I took from a rest stop near Banff, Alberta.

That mountain r0x0r mein s0x0r. Why? Because it's all slanted and stuff. 

Oregonians know what I mean. Oregon doesn't really have mountains like that. Why? We're kind of low on granite; our most impressive mountains are volcanic, so they tend to be conical, not nifty-shaped. The Canadian Rockies were quite fascinating and nifty to my Oregonian eyes. :)

Mt. St. Elvis. No. Actually, I don't know the name, and I can't read the sign in the picture, so nyah. :b 

Which of the following is not visible in this picture?

The Yansamobile
A garbage can that looks like a movie return box
Nifty scenic mountains
The Trans-Canada Highway
The One Ring
A stone wall made of stones
Trees 'n' stuff

Across the road from the rest stop. 

Note the van, which (due to an unintentional trick of photography) appears to be defying the metric speed limit. And it shall appear that way for eternity, now, thanks to my camera.

Me and my favorite mountain. *This* one should be Mt. St. Yansa. I would love you forever (in metric years, even!) if you got it named after me! :D 

Earlier I said "wow"... now I shall say "whoa".

More whoaingness.

I like stuff! 

Do you like stuff? 

Cool! Then it's settled; we both like stuff!

Canmore, Alberta, the town where I stopped for supper. Metric supper.

Canmore is just a few kilometers from Banff. I like the name Banff because it ends in multiple Fs. That's knifty, in my book. We desperately need some extra consonants at (or near) the end of Pacific Northwest city names:


Ohhhhhhh yeah.



Mmmm... stripey!

This was near the end of the mountainous area. After this, the road and I descended onto the Great Plains. I was filled with longing, having only been on the Great Plains once before in my life (and I couldn't remember what they looked like)... the land of thundering buffalo and so much North American history... what would it look like?

It looks like Pendleton, Oregon. 


So now that's settled.

If only that road sign could speak... oh, the stories it would tell.

Instead, it just sits there, to be blurrily captured on digital film by a tired Oregonian on a cool summer night.

It reads, simply, "Welcome To Calgary". 

Below that, there is some more text, but it's been a long time... I forget just what it says. Sad thing, really. Just maybe it was the Secret Of Life. And... who *knew* the Secret Of Life was written on a road sign in Alberta? (Well, Canadians knew, ya silly person. Duh.) 

Some of the text was written 02 September 2002, on a humid summer day in Springfield, Missouri.
The rest was written on 22 February 2003, because Yansa procrastinated, like the bad, bad boy that he is. He needs a spanking.
Last updated 19 January 2006.